


Choices

by Jo (jmathieson)



Series: Tangents and Intersections ~ Kink Bingo 2013 [98]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Apologies, Begging, Community: kink_bingo, Definitely not AoS, Jossed, M/M, Major Character Injury, SHIELD Husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 01:47:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint makes a decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Bingo Round Six (2013) ~ Begging

"I've been waiting for you."

"What... where am I?"

"Where does it look like to you?"

"It's... your office. Your old office at SHIELD, the way it looked years ago, when you were my handler, before... Phil, what's going on?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"There was a battle. We got called out to deal with some sort of big flying things. Monsters, aliens - I'm not even sure. It was bad. Really bad... worse than anything since Manhattan. Maybe worse than Manhattan, or maybe I'm just older and more tired than I was then. I don't know. I got hit, hard. I... one of the things attacked me and - shit, Phil my arm. My right arm was half torn off." Clint's voice raised to a panicked squeak and he looked down at his intact right arm.

"Phil, what's going on? Am I dead?"

"Sort of."

"What do you mean sort of? How can I be sort of dead?"

"It's complicated."

"Well, you've always been pretty good at explaining complicated things to me, Phil, so please, explain how I can be sort of dead."

"I'm sorry, Clint I can't. Not this time. I don't... I don't really understand it myself."

"Hang on, if I'm sort of dead, are you dead? Phil are you dead?"

"Yes and no."

"What?" Clint had gone from panic to confusion and was now quickly approaching anger. Phil raised his hands in a placating manner, and his voice was gentle.

"This me, the one that you're talking to right now, is the Phil that died on the Helicarrier from a spear through the back before the Battle of Manhattan."

"But you didn't die then, Phil. You survived! The docs patched you up, I watched them do it. I was there when you woke up in Medical."

"Like I said, it's complicated."

"So, hang on, if you're the Phil that died on the Helicarrier, but Phil didn't really die on the Helicarrier, does that mean I'm dead right now, like my heart is stopped or something and the medics are trying to jump-start me?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Oh, OK, I get it. So what, do we just like, hang out here and chat until the docs bring me back?"

"It's not quite as simple as that."

"Why not?"

"Because you decided to die."

"Oh, yeah. Um, sorry about that?"

"Why are you apologizing to me?"

"Because, I guess because it means I decided to leave you behind. That was kinda shitty of me." Clint thought about the reasons he'd made that decision. They had seemed a lot better when he was lying bleeding to death alone in a street than they did now, standing here talking to Phil.

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to. If you decide to go back, that is."

"If I decide to go back, what do you mean if? Of course I want to go back. I mean, that's what this is all about, right, giving me a second chance? Letting me know that it's all going to turn out OK, like it did for you..." Clint trailed off as he saw the expression on Phil's face. "It's going to be OK, right, I mean, my arm and... everything?"

"There's no guarantee of that, Clint. I can't tell you the future. I don't know it."

"So my arm might still be fucked. I could be alive, but in a wheelchair, or a vegetable?"

"It's possible."

"But is it probable, is it likely? C'mon, Phil, give me something here."

"I can't, Clint. I wish I could, but I can't. I don't have that information. I just don't know."

"Well, fuck, Phil, what do you know?"

"That you're needed."

"What?"

"You're special. Important somehow. That's why you've been given the chance to go back, the choice. You're... needed."

"But if I'm needed for something, then I must be OK, I mean..." Clint saw the look in Phil's eyes and trailed off. He'd visited enough children's hospitals as Hawkeye to know that he didn't need to be healthy or whole to inspire the next Stephen Hawking...

"Needed for what, Phil? No, let me guess, you don't know that either."

"Sorry." Phil shook his head, and then straightened his shoulders in a gesture Clint knew well. "So."

"So, what?"

"So, have you decided?"

"I have to decide right away?"

"Pretty much, yes."

"I'm needed for something. That's the only incentive you can give me for going back, potentially as a cripple or a vegetable?"

"Well, there's this."

The scene shifted, abruptly but at the same time completely naturally, the way it does when you're dreaming, and suddenly Clint was standing in the street, looking down at his own body, crumpled, broken, and bleeding, and on his knees next to it was Phil. His Phil, the real Phil, not the Phil he'd been talking to but the one he was leaving behind by dying. The one who was holding his left hand and cradling his face and begging him not to die.

"Please, Clint, please hang on. You can do it, I know you can. The medics will be here in seconds. You can make it. Please. Don't leave me. Don't die, Clint, please." 

"I'm sorry Phil, I'm so sorry." Clint dropped to his knees next to Phil, but somehow knew not to try to touch him. Phil gave no indication of hearing him, anyway, so Clint knew he wasn't really there. Or here. Or wherever. Clint could hear the chopper coming in and so could Phil, who started to talk again, bending low over Clint's body to protect it from the backwash and whispering,

"The chopper's here. The medics will fix you up, you just need to hang on for me, Clint please. I know you can do it. You're so strong, you've always been so strong. Please Clint, please."

Clint couldn't take any more. He turned to the Phil who was standing behind him.

"OK, yes. I'll go back. I'll take the chance. Whatever. Tell me what to do."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm fucking sure. Tell me what to do."

"Close your eyes."

~~~~~

Clint could hear the beat of helicopter rotors. It sounded far away, but part of him knew that they were right over his head, that he was in a chopper, being flown to Medical. Everything seemed far away, but there was something... something he needed to do. Something important. He could feel Phil holding his hand. There was an IV in it as well, he recognized the sharp pinch of the large-gauge needle. There were machines beeping and electrodes stuck to his chest. He must be in pretty bad shape. There was something...

"You're going to be fine, Clint. You're going to be just fine. We're nearly back at base and the doctors are going to fix you up. Just hang in there for me, OK Clint? I know you can do that, just hang in there for me." 

Clint could hear Phil's voice and the fear in it. He needed to... he needed to... he squeezed Phil's hand. Or rather he tried to squeeze Phil's hand but all that happened was that his fingers twitched a little. But it got Phil's attention, he could tell by the way Phil went still. He tried again, and this time managed to press Phil's fingers a little with his own.

"Clint, are you awake? Can you hear me? Open your eyes if you can hear me, Clint, please open your eyes."

One of the medics said something, but Clint couldn't hear it and Phil ignored it, leaning closer to Clint's head and squeezing Clint's hand. Clint squeezed back, wanting to do everything he could to reassure Phil, to make him stop sounding afraid.

"I'm here Clint, I'm right here. Open your eyes for me, love, please."

There was something important he needed to say to Phil... something... he forced his eyes open. Phil's face swam above him, smiling a small, tight smile that got bigger and less tight. 

"That's it, you're going to be just fine, Clint. We'll be landing in a minute."

There was something... Clint moved his lips but he couldn't tell if any sound was coming out or not. Phil leaned in even closer and put his ear next to Clint's mouth.

"I'm sorry."

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case anyone didn't see this yesterday:
> 
> As a small 'Thank You' to all my loyal readers for your wonderful support and encouragement, I'm going to take a prompt for a story, which I'll write and publish on November 1st. So, if there's a scene you wanted to see but didn't get, a coda to a story, a further exploration of your favourite kink, or just something you'd love to see our boys do/discuss/discover, here's how to leave your suggestion:
> 
>   1. As a comment to this story. 
>   2. As a Tumblr 'ask' at: Queen of Wands 
>   3. By email to jmathieson.fic at gmail dot com 
> 

> 
> 'Submissions' will be open until midnight, Oct. 31st, EST.
> 
> I can only promise one 'winner' (chosen at random from all the entries) and the story/scene won't necessarily be very long. Sorry about that, but this last push to get the stories finished is going to be rough!
> 
> Thanks again everyone for all your support!
> 
> Thanks always to my excellent editors t! and Shazrolane.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: [Queen of Wands](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/)


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